Pope Pug
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PJ (Pug's Journey) B2, Chapter 61.
🕑 Added 2025-08-17 19:36:25 +0000 UTCFor a split second, the only sound was my own ragged breathing, then a thunderous cheer erupted like a wave crashing over us.
Above the roaring crowd, the marshal-announcer’s voice boomed, “Winner: Sali, the Beasttamer!” His words echoed off the entire area, and a second round of cheers surged.
Truth be told, I couldn’t care less about the result at the moment.
Gerald laid face-up in the dirt a few paces away, utterly unconscious and mouth frothing.
And all I could think as I gazed up at my elven girl partner… was how my stomach was growling at the idea of a victory meal.
My vision blurred at the edges. And I felt a familiar tingling along my spine as the last dregs of my strength slipped away.
In the middle of the arena, amid deafening applause, I began to shrink. The ground rose up towards my snout, the hulking view I’d had of the stadium seating now dwindled to a pug’s-eye view of scattered dust and Sali’s boots. In a blink, I was back to my small size.
“Sali…” I squeaked, barely louder than a whisper.
I tilted my head back to find her through the haze. “Sali… I… I need food…”
My tongue lolled out in a tired pant.
Right on cue, my traitorous stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl that even Sali could hear over the crowd’s cheers. If I could’ve died because of shame and the little dregs of my dignity being scrapped up, I might’ve keeled over.
But Sali just let out a breathy laugh, half disbelief and half pure relief. Without a word, she scooped me up into her arms.
This wasn’t the first time this happened. After being continuously in my small form, it seems that my body had gotten used to it. Hence, whenever I turned large, I required a lot of food to sustain myself.
“I… I need food,” I reminded her pitifully, making her giggle. I sounded like a broken record, or a broken pug, more like.
My grand warrior moment reduced to begging for calories.
“Alright, alright,” Her childlike straightforwardness was a comfort; Sali never overcomplicated things. Since the fight was done, it was time for me to eat.
She adjusted her grip, settling me more securely in her arms as she began walking us toward the arena gates.
People were still cheering Sali’s name, and now I caught the sound of clapping and celebratory whistling.
I peeked one eye open as we passed Gerald. A pair of tournament medics were already tending to him, rolling the spearman onto a stretcher.
Sali herself paid them no mind.
Nestled in her arms, I finally allowed myself to relax.
The waiting room was quieter than the arena, only a faint rumble of the crowd seeping through the stone walls. Sali set me down on the bench while she kept her cloak tight around her shoulders. I curled up, head resting on my paws.
The door opened and one of the marshals stepped in. He was tall, chain shirt under his surcoat, and carried himself stiffly. He looked at Sali, not me.
“Beasttamer Sali,” he said, voice even. “You are required to stay after the rounds. You’ve been selected as one of the five entrants this city will send to the Adventurer’s Guild.”
Sali blinked, a bit surprised, then nodded once.
The marshal continued, “There will be a ceremony when today’s matches conclude. Until then, we have a seating area reserved for all the winners to spectate the remaining bouts.”
He paused, then softened his tone slightly. “We can also provide whatever you need in the meantime. Is there anything we can do for you now?”
Sali hesitated, glancing at me slumped on the bench. My tail twitched but I didn’t lift my head.
Food. Please. That was all I wanted.
“Can we not go to the seating area?” Sali asked. Her voice was polite, but direct. “He’s tired, and so am I. Could we get a room instead? Somewhere quiet. And… food. Lots of food.”
The marshal’s brows rose a fraction, but he nodded without delay. “That can be arranged. A room, and food will be sent. Please follow me.”
He turned, holding the door open.
Sali bent down and scooped me back into her arms. I didn’t resist. My legs were like lead, and I wasn’t planning to move anytime soon. She carried me with ease, the way she always did, one arm under me, the other steadying my back. My stomach gave a faint growl as if to underline her request.
The corridor beyond the waiting room was empty, the sound of the crowd muffled now to a dull roar, clearly another fight had started.
The marshal led us through a side passage, his boots striking evenly against the stone. He didn’t try to make conversation. Sali followed quietly, only adjusting her hold when I sagged lower against her.
After a few turns, he stopped at a small door tucked into the corner of the hall. He took out a key, unlocked it, and stepped aside. “You may rest here. Food will be brought shortly.”
Sali peered inside. The room was modest but comfortable. A bed against one wall, a low table with two chairs, and a narrow window letting in a slant of afternoon light. A jug of water already sat on the table, with two clean cups beside it.
“This is perfect,” Sali said.
The marshal inclined his head. “I will inform the staff to bring food immediately. Please remain here until we call for the ceremony.”
“Thank you,” Sali replied.
He closed the door behind him, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
Sali set me carefully on the bed. The blanket sank under my weight, and I sank with it, too tired to care about anything else. My body felt hollow, drained from every angle. My eyelids drooped.
She sat beside me, brushing a hand along my back. “See? Food’s coming.”
I gave a faint grunt in reply. My eyes were half-shut, but my stomach rumbled again, louder this time.
Sali giggled softly. “I’ll make sure they bring enough.”
I didn’t doubt her. I just buried my head against the blanket and waited.
The knock came after only a short wait. Sali opened the door, and two staff entered carrying two trays. The smell hit first—warm bread, roasted meat, and a bowl of soup that steamed in the air.
They set it neatly on the table. It was enough for an ordinary pair. But certainly not enough for me.
“Thank you,” Sali said, bowing her head slightly. “But… could I trouble you for more? He eats a lot.”
The staff glanced at me. I was still on the bed, head lifted just high enough to make eye contact. My ears flicked. My stomach let out a loud growl at the worst possible moment.
The younger of the two blinked, startled, but the older man nodded. “Understood. We’ll bring more.”
They left. Sali carried me to the table. She took the soup bowl for herself, leaving the rest for me.
I didn’t wait. The first plate disappeared in a blink. The second went the same way. By the time the staff returned with another tray, the first one was already stacked with bones and crumbs.
The young staff nearly dropped the jug of water when he saw it.
This cycle repeated. They came in with trays, they left, and they came back to piles stacked higher than before. At some point, the two staff stopped hiding their looks.
I ignored them. My focus was on the food. Roast, bread, stew, and more bread. Plates stacked like a fortress at my side.
Sali sat quietly through it all, sipping her soup and occasionally reminding the staff, “More, please.” Her tone never changed, always polite.
She even offered them thanks each time, though they were sweating more with every trip. Once, when they closed the door, she leaned over and whispered, “They probably think you’ll eat the chairs next.” She giggled to herself while I kept chewing.
By the sixth tray, the staff no longer looked surprised, only resigned. They set the dishes down quickly, nodded, and retreated before I could empty another plate in front of them.
Two hours slipped by this way. Finally, I leaned back in my spot, tongue lolling, belly round but not aching. The mountain of dishes looked absurd.
A small beast on the table with plates piled nearly five times its height beside it.
I exhaled long and slow. Enough.
Sali leaned forward on her elbows, chin in her hands. “Are you finally finished?”
“For now,” I muttered.
She giggled. “You really did eat all of that.”
The staff peeked in again to clear the mountain of plates. Their faces were somewhere between horror and awe.
I ignored them too.
There was a reason I stayed small whenever I ate. In this form, I could eat more. The satisfying flavors of food would slowly trickle down in my mouth.
Howevere, in my large form, every bite filled me too quickly. It wasn’t satisfying. I’d rather eat for hours.
After all, why trade pleasure for convenience?
I rested my chin on the edge of the table and shut my eyes.
Sali didn’t last much longer after I finished eating. She grabbed me and carried me to the bed, laying down beside me, cloak still wrapped around her shoulders. She kept changing her posture until she was comfortable, and then went quiet.
Her breathing slowed and evened out, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up. Gerald had thrown her around like a rag doll, and even if she never admitted it, her body was sore. I didn’t bother saying anything. I let her weight press on me and dozed off myself, stomach still heavy but finally satisfied.
The hours passed in silence until a knock came at the door. Sali woke up, rubbing her eyes, hair sticking out at odd angles. She pushed herself up and opened the door.
The marshal from earlier stood there. His posture hadn’t changed at all; straight back, chain shirt under his surcoat, the same serious face.
“It is time,” he said. “The crowd is waiting to see the five entrants this city will send to the Adventurer’s Guild.”
Sali blinked once, then nodded. “Okay…”
She returned to the bed and scooped me up.
The marshal led us through the stone halls. The crowd outside was still roaring, muffled by the walls, each cheer made a low rumble. We reached the waiting room again, but this time it was empty. No other fighters, no chatter, just the marshal standing in the center.
The announcer’s voice carried through the walls. It was distant and hard to make out, swallowed up by the audience, but I could catch pieces. Names, followed by titles.
The crowd roared each time.
I heard “Blade of the Riverlands,” then “Stonehand Veteran,” then something else about “Twin Axes.” These were pseudo-titles good enough to rile a city, though not worth much outside it.
Unless provided by the state, a kingdom, or a country, these titles were not officially recognized.
There were many types of titles. Some came from bloodlines, some were given by kings or noble councils, and some were earned by doing something so absurd that the world couldn’t help but pin a title on you; normally bestowed on criminals or legendary exploits.
But there were a few monikers in the world that signalled true danger, those that had “Master” or “God” in them.
Sali’s was the simpler kind. The Elven Beasttamer. A name pinned to her by the guildhouse since it was the best way to describe her. It served its purpose and made the crowd cheer.
The announcer’s voice rose again, clearer this time. “The Elven Beasttamer, Sali!”
The cheer that followed was deafening even from behind the walls. Her name rolled through the arena.
The marshal turned to her, expression even. “Please step out and stand with the others. ” His tone was respectful, lacking any mockery.
Sali adjusted her cloak and glanced down at me. I gave a grunt of approval.
She nodded and followed the marshal toward the gate. The muffled cheer became a wall of sound, waiting for us on the other side.
Comments
BelligerentGnu
Yeah, that is a brutal and completely random nerf. Him being hungry is amusing but his small form being the default is not.
Mustache
Destroying ancient divine anti godbeast door -> no issue. Some random in a tournament -> ravenous hunger. Did I miss something? Other than that, still a great chapter
